


Time Around Scars

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: General, Multi-Age, Writing - Well-handled introspection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-19
Updated: 2005-02-27
Packaged: 2018-03-24 17:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3776979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five drabbles concerning Eowyn's scars, physical or otherwise. Inspired by the Michael Ondaatje poem. Rated adult for potentially disturbing - rather than sexual - content.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

_We remember the time around scars,  
they freeze irrelevant emotions  
and divide us from present friends._  
\- Michael Ondaatje

 

 

She is not sure what to do.

The iron left red hurt on her hand. It wrinkled today, and she watches it, curious.

_How much can hurt grow?_ she wonders, and presses it with her finger. She thinks of other things, until it screams white nothings behind her eyes.

_It feels like mama's face._ And she presses it again.

She thinks of the room and the fire. Puts the pain there with the hand and the body, and herself outside.

She needs an answer to her questions, but mama is quiet.

Years later, she holds her first sword, and remembers.


	2. II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five drabbles concerning Eowyn's scars, physical or otherwise. Inspired by the Michael Ondaatje poem. Rated adult for potentially disturbing - rather than sexual - content.

The bleeding started in her sleep.

She wonders if she is dying. The pain is strangely dull. Yet life is slipping, though red-stained fingers, to the floor.

She picks up her sword, the amulet her mother gave her. She lies on the bed, closes her eyes, waits for darkness.

_When they find me, they will be sorry._

A knock. Her nurse approaches, pokes her in the arm. "Silly child. You're a woman now."

Afterwards, she hears hallway voices; watches her uncle's advisor demand the bedclothes, eyes fixed on her shame.

He turns to her, licks his pale lips, and smiles.


	3. III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five drabbles concerning Eowyn's scars, physical or otherwise. Inspired by the Michael Ondaatje poem. Rated adult for potentially disturbing - rather than sexual - content.

Everywhere, she feels his gaze.

It begins with a tremble, an unfamiliar quake in her hand. She offers the cup, meets his eyes, and the challenge burns its seal on her heart.

She thrives in his detachment. How he smiles at the Elf, her brother's joke; never her. An attack, a parry; legs apart, balance remade. There is a strategy to him, she must only learn how.

She knows he would teach her, if she surrendered. She thinks of their glory, together.

In the dark, she feels his eyes on her. Watching, considering, weighing.

It is another kind of cage.


	4. IV

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five drabbles concerning Eowyn's scars, physical or otherwise. Inspired by the Michael Ondaatje poem. Rated adult for potentially disturbing - rather than sexual - content.

The Witch-King came. She did not know who he was. He spoke of death, and she laughed. He told her of torment, and she thrust an unnamed sword in his mouth.

Hope had left her in the mountains. Soon, it will leave her uncle's body, her brother's cry. There was no blood left to spill. So he turned to bone.

She had felt the wood break, the pieces come apart. They open the darkness. Oblivion, finally.

When they sing of her, they will speak of her arm, the one that was broken.

But the shattering of it, was her awakening.


	5. V

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five drabbles concerning Eowyn's scars, physical or otherwise. Inspired by the Michael Ondaatje poem. Rated adult for potentially disturbing - rather than sexual - content.

She has endured before; felt flesh spring open, known life as it rushed, like a river, from her grasp.

But this, she cannot. There is no courage now.

In her native tongue, she screams for her mother, begs to be taken away. Tonight, she feels the darkness he spoke of. The waves rolling, unending. Inescapable.

Gripping his arm, she curses him. He who gave her this life. He who taught her this dream.

Her son tears at her body as he leaves her. She sees his bloodied head, expels her pain.

And her love is broken, like waves upon rocks.


End file.
